


Secret

by BirdOfHermes



Series: The Thirst Trials [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Banter, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Car Sex, Dom Loki, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Tsunderes, Wall Sex, sub Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: The first time you met Loki Laufeyson, he was getting a blowjob in his office. And shit just gets crazier from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TIME FOR ANOTHER EXPERIMENT Y'ALL BECAUSE THIS GODDAMN ODINSON THIRST AIN'T GONNA RESOLVE ITSELF APPARENTLY.
> 
> Alright, so, if you're here expecting anything even vaguely related to the MCU, let me clear that up for you. Nope. No ties to the Avengers or the MCU. I've borrowed personalities and names only. And trust me, it's weird that I found myself wanting to write an AU with zero powers or mystical aspects from the Thor movies, but here we are. But again, that's what the experiment is. I want to see if Loki is just as interesting without the powers and magic or if I'm alone in just enjoying transporting my awful trashlord into the real world to see what he'd be like if he was just a rich, arrogant asshole who happens to be really charming. 
> 
> Secondly, this will have a companion fic of the same modern AU concept applied to Thor, because I am thirsty for both sons of Odin and I have just accepted it about myself by now. Oh well. 
> 
> I hope you like it, but I will totally understand if you don't. I tried to keep our dumb trashlord in character, but I guess I'll find out from your reactions if I actually pulled it off. Be nice, though. I am a soft little thing with too many feelings.

_"I'm driving fast now_  
_Don't think I know how to go slow_  
_Oh, where ya at now?_  
_I feel around_  
_There you are_  
_Cool these engines_  
_Calm these jets_  
_I ask you, 'how hot can it get?'_  
_And as you wipe off beads of sweat_  
_Slowly, you say, 'I'm not there yet'_

 _I know I don't know you_  
_But I want you so bad_  
_Everyone has a secret_  
_Oh, can they keep it?_  
_Oh no, they can't..."_

_-"Secret" by Maroon 5_

"This looks like a trap."

You stare up at the huge, foreboding building of towering glass and steel before you and shake your head in mild disbelief. It's late. Not uncomfortably late, but late enough that the average person working nine-to-five was already home and cuddled up with their significant other watching Netflix. You longed to join them. Especially the cuddling part. God, it's been ages since someone properly cuddled you. Damn shame.

Instead, you sigh and tug the door open to the lobby and throw on your best perky girl smile for the poor doorman stuck on the evening shift.

"Hey," you say brightly. "Is Mr. Laufeyson still in?"

The doorman glances down at his roster. "Yeah, he's up there. Usually doesn't head out until after nine o'clock or later. Burns the midnight oil a lot, more than most CEOs do."

"Ah. Well, I have something for him." You brandish a gift basket. "And I'd like to deliver it in person."

The doorman gives you a funny look. "This late?"

He checks out your outfit. It's certainly nothing special: a hoodie, your cleanest white button up shirt, some nice jeans, and flats. You wonder why he asked, and then realize he might think you're one of Mr. Laufeyson's female admirers.

"It's not like that," you tell him, and then flash the insignia to your company jacket at him. He sees it and visibly relaxes a little. "He's a client. Boss wants me to butter him up so he'll come buy another custom car from him sometime soon so he can make his goal for the quarter."

"That I understand," the doorman says wisely. "I'll cut you a break. Just be in and out, okay? He's not exactly a warm and cuddly kind of guy. If I let too many folks into his suite, it'll be my ass."

You salute him. "I'll be quick as a bunny. Thanks, man."

You peek this way and that, slip one hand into the gift basket, and hand him one of the German beers perched along the outer rim of the basket. He accepts it, grins broadly, and winks before popping it open. You skip along to the elevator and ride on up to the fifteenth floor.

You've never directly met Loki Laufeyson before. You've been in his vicinity, but never introduced yourself. You've seen him on the front of GQ enough times that he might as well be their posterboy for well dressed English gentlemen. He owns an enormous communications company called Asgard International and he's got a taste for luxury cars that are rare, so he positively loves your father's shop. He's bought four cars from him and had customizations made to them each time, and that's where you come in. You help your dad repair cars. You're a regular grease-monkey, and that's why you're not thrilled about your father's bright idea of being the one to butter up Mr. Laufeyson into checking out the new inventory.

To be frank, you're shit with men. Always have been. Awkward is the word you choose to describe it. You mumble, you're not sure what to say and when to say it, and you have zero idea how to appear in such a way that makes them take notice of you. Doorman is an excellent example of a rare positive interaction with the male species. Sure, men like you well enough, but they don't see you as dating material simply because you just don't stand out. After all, it's New York. There's younger, better, easier-to-get surrounding you on all sides, so what do men need with you?

And it's fine. You get by. It's not some giant hole in your chest that gets blacker and wider every year. It's just...inconvenient. Especially around the holidays. Especially fucking Valentine's Day, Christ.

The elevator dings and your thoughts dissipate as an equally cold, monochrome lobby awaits you on Mr. Laufeyson's floor. It's definitely past office hours; his secretary is nowhere to be found and while the lights outside his office are on, the ones to the cubicles are all off. There is a door directly ahead that's cracked with light coming out. There's no name, because it's obvious it's his office; after all, it's his damn building and from what you've heard, his office is so huge it could shelter a small country.

You check yourself in the reflection of one of the glass awards lining the shelves next to the secretary's desk. You look presentable. Should be easy enough to say hi, drop the basket off, flutter your eyelashes as you rattle off the newest finds, and then head home for a hot shower and the new season of Stranger Things.

"You can do this," you mutter. "Be brief. Be cute. Don't melt once you hear that accent."

You take a deep breath and knock on the slightly open door. The door swings inward.

"Mr. Laufeyson?"

Your jaw drops.

Loki Laufeyson's office is indeed ludicrously huge. It's damn near the size of your one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, for God's sake. There's a fake fireplace to your left with a titanic, almost movie theater-sized flat screen above it, white leather couches, and a blood red rug underneath a glass table. The other side of the room has an enormous book shelf and a conference table with eight chairs. The far corner has an actual freaking mini bar with three stools as well as a full refrigerator. Two walls are made of what appears to be one way glass facing the city of New York with a spectacular view of Stark Tower. There were rumors that Loki had a particular distaste for Tony Stark and purposely built his building to this size just to ruin his view, and to be three floors taller.

But that's not why your jaw's to the floor.

Loki Laufeyson is in the middle of getting a blowjob.

A very enthusiastic one.

For a few horrible seconds, you freeze like a deer in headlights and don't know what to do. You've never walked in on someone having sex, oral or otherwise. At first, the shock roots you in place as your brain tries to comprehend what you're seeing.

That's of course when Loki spots you.

His head had been lying back on his giant, rather comfortable-looking chair, some of those carelessly curly soot-black locks touching one side of his forehead. His expensive suit jacket had been tossed across his gigantic black lacquer desk. His green tie is loose at his throat and his black dress shirt is wrinkled, a couple buttons undone, exposing just a peek of pale skin. His lips are parted, inhaling in sharp, erratic jerks as the blonde girl's head bobs up and down in his lap, and yet both his huge hands are gripping the chair instead of her hair. Odd. It's not unheard of, of course, but it seems strangely impersonal.

The girl obviously hasn't heard your voice, but a few seconds after you'd knocked and spoken, Loki's head tipped down from the back of the chair and he opened his eyes.

Oh, boy.

You wanted to die on the spot the second he looked at you, but you're not sure what'll kill you the fastest: the sheer embarrassment of what's happening, the fear that he's seen you see him in a compromising position, or the wild, lust-drenched gaze he's aimed at you with those frostbitten blue-green eyes. His gaze spears you like two icicles driven into your chest with a mallet. Your body breaks out in cold sweat immediately, your hands clammy, your heart stuttering, your mouth dry. It's like staring at a jaguar from two feet away and there's no safety glass between you; just you and a predator that's having a good time thinking about eating you.

It doesn't seem to register that you're there for another terrifying second or two and then Mr. Laufeyson's eyes widen as the pleasure from the oral sex slides away and he becomes fully alert.

"Sorry!" You yelp finally once the air returns to your lungs. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I'll go!"

Your legs find the energy to move and you haul ass out of the office over to the elevator and slam the button with your thumb frantically. "For the love of God, please, hurry up!"

Five more seconds and you're taking your chances with the fifteen flights of stairs. Five...four...three...two...one--

A large hand grabs your shoulder and jerks you hard. You stumble right into the arms of the man you were just trying to escape. Great.

Loki pins you to him, one arm around the small of your back, the other at your wrist, the basket just barely separating your bodies. _He has fast reflexes,_ you note absently, seconds before your panicked verbal diarrhea begins.

"--so sorry, I swear, I didn't know, I was just trying to drop off this for you and--"

"Enough," Loki commands, and your mouth clamps shut.

He peers down at you for a moment and then a spark of recognition flies through his wintry eyes. "Ah. The auto shop, yes? The one your father runs?"

You blink. How does he recognize you? You've always been in the background during his visits, too shy to speak up, and while your dad wanted you to introduce yourself, you didn't want Loki to see you smudged in oil with your hair up in a ponytail wearing dumpy coveralls. "Um, y-yeah. The basket's from my father. He, um, he wanted you to drop by and see what he found."

Loki glances over his shoulder at the office and then back at you, and you practically see the gears whirling in his head. "How much?"

The blood rushes out of your face. Oh, dear God, you're almost too scared to ask. "H-How much for what?"

His eyes narrow. "How much for you to forget what you just saw?"

You can't meet his gaze. You stare at his unbuttoned shirt instead. "I-I won't tell anyone. I swear."

"Come now," he scoffs. "I've millions at my disposal. Name your price."

Something stubborn rises up through your chest and you find the gumption to give him enough of a shove to let go of you. He blinks in slight surprise, but doesn't try for your arm or your waist again. "Look, I'm not that kind of girl, alright? It's my fault for barging in after hours anyway."

You thrust the gift basket out at him. "Here. Take it. Come see my dad on Saturday. He has new cars for you to check out."

Mercifully, the elevator dings and opens. You hurry inside.

The doors close on the strangely intrigued, yet befuddled expression on Loki's face.

-

You sleep poorly.

Not for lascivious reasons. Well, _mostly_ not for lascivious reasons.

Anxiety gnaws at you the entire night. You worry he'll call your father and complain. You worry he'll hire some crazy gangster to threaten you so no one will find out what happened last night. You'd gotten home and told your father you delivered it and he'd been delighted and hadn't asked anything more of you since it was already a pretty big favor.

Now you just have to erase the memory of Loki Laufeyson's handsome face in total ecstasy and you'll be good to go.

The next two days proceed as normal, thank God. Your dad doesn't get any mysterious phone calls. No one follows you home. Everything seems to be just fine.

Until Saturday morning when Loki strolls into the auto shop.

Frickity frackety frackin' frack.

You hear the low, rolling purr of that baritone voice with its neat accent and nearly freeze in place underneath the Masarati you're tinkering with. Thankfully, you're hidden from view. Maybe he'll just check out the cars and go away.

And maybe Tony Stark will waltz in and offer you a job as his head designer.

You do your best to actually pay attention to what you're doing, but it's all for naught as you hear footsteps approaching. Not normal work boots, either. Hard bottom dress shoes. _Shit, shit, shit._

Someone clears their throat. You don't move. "Can I help you?"

"I believe you've already done that, my dear," the rich jackass replies.

Thank God you're under the car. He can't see you rolling your eyes. "What do you want?"

"A face-to-face, if you wouldn't mind."

"I do mind."

Loki hooks your ankle with his foot and yanks you out from under the car. You swallow a yelp and prepare the mother of all "don't fuck with me right now" glares...

...only to find yourself staring at an enormous bouquet of flowers.

And not just any flowers.

Daffodils.

Your favorite.

You scoot off the rolling cart and push to your feet, eyeing the millionaire. "What's with the flowers?"

Loki offers you an entirely fake sweet smile. "My thanks for your generous gift basket."

You cross your arms. "My dad bought you the gift basket. I'm just the delivery girl."

"You still took the trouble to bring it to me. I'd like to at least make the proper overture, my lady."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "So now I'm a lady?"

Loki chuckles softly. "Were you ever not one?"

"Not recently, no." You pluck the flowers out of his hands. They smell wonderful. Damn him. It's a gorgeous arrangement, too specific to have just been grabbed at a nearby florist. He'd literally asked someone to put them together for you. Oy. Rich guys.

"How'd you know about the daffodils?" You ask, not hiding your suspicious tone.

"A man in my position has ways of acquiring such things."

You stare at him flatly. The smile widens into a grin, and this time, it's genuine. "You were wearing daffodil perfume last night."

"Oh." Well, duh. You sigh. "Thanks for the flowers."

"My pleasure. I thought I might tempt you with the offer of lunch. Your father said you hadn't eaten yet."

You make a mental note to murder your dad as soon as Loki leaves. "I'm not hungry."

"You've been here since eight o'clock," he says, checking his ludicrously expensive watch. "You must be famished by now; it's after two."

"I have a tuna sandwich in the fridge," you insist.

Those mischievous eyes gleam. "You're being difficult."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." You step closer and lower your voice. "Look, I meant what I said last night. I'm not gonna blow the whistle on you, so you don't have to feel the need to wine and dine me so I'll keep my mouth shut. I'm a nobody. If I were to tattle on you, I'd be in the news in a matter of minutes and branded a lying slut by all your crazy fangirls. What do you say we just forget what happened and call it even, okay?"

"Well, I'd be happy to do that if not for one reason."

"Which is?"

"I'm not here to spoil you. I'd like to hire you to fix a car for me."

You stiffen. "Huh?"

Loki flicks through images on his phone. "This one."

You eye it for a moment. It's an Aston Martin. "That would be very tricky and very expensive."

"Two of my favorite things in life."

You roll your eyes and he laughs. His laugh is like warm caramel. You want to taste it for some bizarre reason. That laugh, too, had been real. "Look, there are plenty of other mechanics around. Why me?"

"Your father tells me you're the best."

"He's my dad. He's supposed to say that about his only child."

Loki's eyes sparkle. "True, but he also told me you've fixed every car I've bought from here. Your work is invaluable. I want you."

There is something hidden in that last part that makes your stomach quiver and a wave of shudders slip down your spine. You swallow to wet your dry throat and hug the flowers a little closer to your chest.

He seems to notice you haven't told him to blow it out his gorgeous ass yet. "Name your price, darling."

You scowl at the affectionate nickname and stride over to a nearby desk, dropping the flowers on it. You find a scrap of paper, write down the most ridiculous figure you can think of, and hand it to him. Loki scans it and nods once. "Very well. When can I expect the final product?"

Your jaw flaps loosely for a moment. "I was _kidding_."

He shrugs. "I wasn't."

You sigh and massage the bridge of your nose. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And if I keep sending you away, you're going to inundate me with flowers and candy and try to sweet talk me into doing it anyway."

"Yes."

You glare. "Fine, you creep, I'll do it. Your car will be ready in a month. Now kick rocks."

Loki tucks the scrap of paper in his suit pocket and scoops your hand up, kissing the back of it. "I am in your debt, darling."

His lips are warm. He stares up into your eyes with heat and teasing the whole time you're touching. Despite how annoying it is, your cheeks flush and you jerk your hand away. "Good _bye_ , Loki."

"Until the next time, my sweet." He winks and tucks his hands into his pockets, humming merrily as he heads back towards your dad's office to discuss the details. You watch him go and contemplate throwing the daffodils away.

Against your better judgment, you keep the flowers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the inappropriate manner in which the two of you met, Loki is intrigued. Oh joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is so extra and by God I love it.

You hope that perhaps your life will return to semi-normal the next day, but then the flowers arrive.

Every day.

For a straight week.

To his credit, Loki never sends you the same bouquet twice. Snapdragons, lilies, irises, petunias, tulips, daisies, and finally roses on the seventh day. There's never a card on any of them because you know damn well who sent them. The other mechanics at the shop whoop and holler and tease you good-naturedly every morning when a new bouquet arrives. You love your crew, to be honest. They're all mostly in their forties or closer to your dad's age, and love you like a sibling, so of course they make fun of Loki's opulent display. You insist he's just being a jackass and that you're not dating him, but it's too late; they're never going to let you hear the end of it, so you give up.

After Loki sends the roses, you finally have had enough and grab his office phone number from your dad's customer contact list. The bouquets have consistently shown up every morning at nine o'clock on the dot. You stand to one side of the garage with your arms crossed, tapping one foot impatiently as the phone rings.

"Mr. Laufeyson's office?" a perky secretary answers.

"Hi. Can you put me through to him, please?"

"Who may I ask is calling?"

"His mechanic." For a second, you forget yourself. The guy's a millionaire. He probably has about ten different mechanics and there's no reason to assume she knows which one you are--

"Oh!" the secretary says, still sounding delighted. "He's been expecting your call. One moment, please."

There's a slight dialing noise and then Loki's velvet purr spreads over your ear drums. "Did you get my flowers, darling?"

You grind your back teeth. "Yes. Stop sending them."

He chuckles. "You are the first woman I have ever met to refuse floral arrangements."

"Look, are you trying to embarrass me or something? Mission accomplished. I don't need flowers. My apartment looks like a jungle right now."

"Really? I'd like to see that firsthand, actually."

You blush. "Are you always this flirty?"

"Always," he confirms. "But in my experience, you get the best work out of people when you keep them happy. If the flowers displease you, I'll certainly cancel the remaining orders."

You palm your forehead. "Christ. How many more were you planning on sending?"

"Thirty days' worth," he says as if it's a no-brainer.

"I don't need flowers. I'm working on your car. You don't have to flatter me or bribe me into making it a priority, not with what you were planning on paying me. Which, by the way, I remind you, was in fact a joke. I thought you Brits were well-versed in sarcasm."

"That we are, but I'm trying to get on your good side, so I'll still pay it anyhow."

You sigh. "What do you want, Loki?"

"What do I want? You called _me_."

"Not what I meant. What's your endgame? Are you just bored? Do you just like pestering me?"

"Quite," he laughs. "Your reactions are novel. Adorable, even."

" _Ugh._ " You don't hide your disgust. "Look, I'm going back to work. No more flowers, Loki. I want your word on that."

"And you have it, my sweet."

You roll your eyes again. "Goodbye."

"Until the next time, darling." _Click._

"God, what a piece of work," you mutter as you stomp back inside to resume your shift.

The next morning, instead of a bouquet, a teddy bear the size of a small child arrives. It's holding a pink heart between its paws that says, "I can't BEAR the thought of being without you."

"I'm going to _kill you_ ," you screech when you call him.

Loki laughs. "Good morning to you too, dearest."

"Stop sending me presents, you--you--infuriating, pompous git!" You know you're angry when you've gone into British slang. He's really getting under your skin.

Loki laughs harder. "You said I couldn't send flowers."

You're pretty sure blood's going to start shooting out of your temples, so you take a few breaths enough to form words that aren't insults. "What is it going to cost me to get you to knock it off?"

Loki is silent for a moment or two. Then some of the amusement tapers off. "Have lunch with me."

You freeze. "Wha?"

"Today. At noon. I'll come pick you up."

"You...did you just ask me out on a _date?_ "

"No. I asked you out to lunch. There's a difference."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to go to lunch with me?"

"Is it that bloody hard to imagine a man wanting to take you to lunch?" he asks with an indignant tone.

"A man, no. You? Absolutely. Didn't your last girlfriend like own Sweden or something? Why the hell would you want to be seen with some lowly mechanic?"

"For the record, I don't want to be seen; I _am_ seen because of my reputation and my family name. It's not my choice."

You wince. There's actual regret and resentment in his tone. He means it. You can tell he's not exactly thrilled being in the spotlight all the time. You can imagine it gets old real quick, having your privacy invaded on a near-constant basis.

You chew your lip. Maybe you can use this as an opportunity to nip this in the bud, whatever the hell "this" is. He's probably just trying to feel you out to make sure you're not going to go back on your word about not telling anyone what happened last week. If you convince him you're on the up and up, he might leave you be.

"Fine," you grumble. "I'm allergic to shellfish, so no seafood places. Otherwise, see you at noon."

"Marvelous. Cheers, darling." He hangs up. You sigh and trudge your way into the office to tell your dad you'll be taking your lunch hour off-site today. You neglect to mention Loki, and you'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Your dad means well, but he wants you to date more and settle down, and the prospect of marrying Loki would make him absurdly happy.

Five minutes to noon, you're standing on the sidewalk outside of the auto shop, absently tugging at your faded jeans in vain. You always wear your most comfortable pair beneath the coveralls. Your black t-shirt has the logo of the Minnesota Vikings across the front. They're your dad's favorite team, and to be honest, you happen to like them too. You had admittedly dug some makeup out of the side pocket of your purse and done a bit of eye liner and lip gloss so you wouldn't look quite as frumpy going to lunch with one of the richest men in New York. You also tugged your hair out of the ponytail and brushed out the tangles so it falls against your cheeks in what you hope is a flattering manner.

To your relief, a limousine doesn't roll up next to you; instead, it's one of Loki's Jaguars that you'd customized for him about two months ago. He rolls the window down and grins at you over a pair of ludicrously expensive sunglasses. "Hop in, love."

You shake your head and climb into the car beside him. You refuse to think about the ridiculous circumstances or your head will explode all over the nice interior of the car. "I expect to be back in exactly an hour. My dad will get suspicious otherwise."

"We can't have that," he agrees before shifting gears and pulling onto the street. "You have my word I'll bring you back on time."

You stare out the window as he drives. There's some soft jazz playing on the radio to fill the silence. He takes you uptown to a rather surprising spot: a brunch restaurant. You'd expected something like an upscale steakhouse or something, and you refuse to admit it, but you're excited at the prospect of a giant stack of brioche French toast. Thanks to your hours at the shop, you almost never have time to make breakfast at home; usually just coffee and a granola bar before you dart out the door to try and beat traffic.

The brunch place is nice, but not bougie, thank goodness, so no one really bats an eye at the pair of you once you enter. Loki prefers outdoor seating since it's a nice day outside during the spring and you don't mind it either; the background noise of the city around you is somewhat of a comfort in unfamiliar territory.

You order a coffee. He orders tea. He insists you can get whatever you want, so you order that giant stack of French toast you had your mind set upon and he orders a salmon nicoise with brie-infused grits. Once the waitress leaves, those sharp, intelligent blue-green eyes focus intently upon you over the rim of his teacup.

"So," Loki says. "Tell me how you got into the auto mechanic business."

"It's obvious enough, but it's my dad. I was raised in that shop. It's what he loves and what I love."

"Did you ever go to school for it or did he simply teach you all that he knew?"

"I took some classes here and there to brush up on luxury cars, but that's about it."

Loki smirks a bit. "It wasn't all cheap flattery, you know. I do think you have a talent for what you do. Each of the cars feel more like me after you work on them."

You will yourself not to blush. He's irritating as hell, but it's still devastating to hear a handsome man compliment your work. "Thank you."

"Be still my heart," he says, sitting back in his chair with a Cheshire cat grin. "She can be polite."

You scowl at him. "Yes, when you're acting like a human being and not a god for once."

"Didn't know you think of me as a god."

"Obviously your father knew you'd turn out like this," you say a bit smugly. "You are named after a Norse god."

He rolls his eyes. "Obviously. My father was one of the foremost experts in Norse mythology. He found himself unable to resist the urge to slap me with this name on account of my real father's last name."

You blink at him. "Oh. So you were adopted?"

His eyes glint with something akin to anger or perhaps resentment. "Yes."

There might as well be a giant red blinking sign that says "do not ask any further questions on this subject" above his head, so you drop it. "So what's it like being rich?"

Loki shrugs. "There's no real way to answer that question."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's hard to explain to someone who is without wealth without sounding pretentious or unappreciative of what I have," he said frankly. "I work long hours. I have certain luxuries. I also have about as many problems as I have zeroes in my bank account. Running the company takes up the majority of my time. I am a good businessman, so most of my company runs itself, but it's one thing to become wealthy and another entirely to remain wealthy and to expand. That's largely what occupies my time. I am set for life. My needs are met."

He pauses for a moment and his voice softens, lowers a little. " _Almost_ all of them, anyway."

You're about to ask what he meant, but then the food arrives. The two of you eat, and to Loki's credit, the man knows great food. You almost weep at how perfectly firm and sweet the French toast is and at how the syrup is just right. It's amazing how much delicious food lifts your spirits.

Loki steals a bit from your plate one he notices you're in heaven. You glare and swipe the last bite of his salmon nicoise in retaliation, and for just the briefest moment, it feels like an actual date. You quickly ignore that fact.

Loki drives you back to the garage and parks the Jaguar. Just as the low buzz of the engine shuts off, you hear his voice. "She wasn't a prostitute, by the way."

You blink at him. "What?"

Loki fidgets and sighs. "The woman at the office that night. It was my ex-girlfriend. She...is moving to Australia. She thought we should have an official goodbye the night before her flight."

You rub your suddenly clammy palms against your jeans. "I-I didn't think she was a...you know."

"I'm no fool. I know it was on your mind."

You observe him for a long moment and then something finally clicks into place. "That's why you wanted lunch. This is your way of...apologizing. So were the bear and the flowers."

He winces, but doesn't deny it. Your jaw nearly drops open. Big bad playboy Loki has an actual conscience. Of all the things you'd come to expect from him, that certainly wasn't one of them.

"I am sorry," he murmurs. "That you were put in that position. I reacted poorly. When you've acquired the kind of wealth and reputation that I have, you expect people to screw you over. I made an assumption about you that turned out to be untrue."

"Well, you may be named after a Norse god, but you are still human," you tell him in a gentle voice. "You're still the most annoying man I've ever met, but I'm not holding a grudge against you for just being human. I'm sorry there are so many people who have tried to get one over on you. It must be hard."

He shrugs. "You get used to it."

You shudder. "I hope I never have to."

Loki smiles and brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "A woman like you never will."

You both jump a little as your watch starts going off. "My lunch hour's over. Thanks for the meal."

You climb out of the Jaguar, waving to him. He calls your name before you get too far and you glance back at him.

"Tell me something."

"What?"

Loki flashes you that insufferable grin again. "Did you have fun?"

You give him your most mysterious smile before turning away without answering. You hear his laughter in your wake as he drives off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki Laufeyson asks you out on a date. Yes, really.

It's standard procedure that two weeks into any car repair that takes a month or more to complete, you invite the client in to take a look at how things are progressing and make any last minute changes to their custom job that they want. You've been nervous as that date approaches, even though Loki has seemed to back off for the most part. A week after your lunch not-date, he sends you a pretty embossed little card thanking you for joining him and implying that he wouldn't mind doing it again sometime. However, he behaves himself. No phone calls, no lavish presents. You ask your dad to give him a call for the two-week inspection and do your best not to count the minutes down to his appointment time.

To his credit, even though he's rich, Loki isn't a snob to the guys in the garage. When you come out from the back, he's smiling and chatting with them, laughing at their jokes. You can tell he actually likes the atmosphere of the shop, and you can't blame him. The garage comes highly recommended not only for the high quality work of your crew, but because it's just a bunch of nice guys who work hard and are easy to get along with.

Loki spots you about halfway along your walk towards him, and you hate that your stomach trembles the tiniest bit as a warm, borderline seductive smile curls his lips up. He's wearing an impeccable suit as he always is; a charcoal grey one with a soft blue tie that matches his eyes and a crisp white dress shirt beneath it. His hands are tucked in his pockets and he's 100% the GQ model you've seen on the cover half a dozen times in the past few years. It should be a crime to look that damn good 24/7. You envy him and wonder if you should ask him fashion advice.

Your crew scatters once you arrive and they make kissy faces behind Loki's back before you glare to disperse them. You cross your arms, keeping a casual tone. "Loki."

He smiles wider, his eyes sparkling. "Darling."

"Thank you for exercising restraint in not sending me presents constantly."

"It was killing me," he deadpans. "I so wanted to lavish you with chocolates and diamonds to express my utter devotion and love for you, my dear."

You roll your eyes. "Sarcastic bastard. Well, come on, let's have a look."

You lead him towards the car, and there is an uncanny sensation marching up and down your spine as the two of you walk. You glance over your shoulder and scowl at him. "I meant at the car, not at my ass, Loki."

"Pardon me," he says unapologetically. "You failed to clarify that."

You groan. "God, you're a pain in the ass."

"I'd never want to be so troublesome to such a lovely thing."

You turn and swat him in the shoulder, drawing a wicked laugh out of him again. You both reach the car and you rattle off all the work you've done so far to the Aston Martin, particularly the interior, the engine, and the car's frame. Loki is a devoted collector of cars, so his inspection is very thorough and he asks you intelligent questions the whole time, which you appreciate. Sometimes you got clients who didn't know jack about cars and it was a pain to explain things to them that couldn't be done to the car as it would irreversibly damage it or change its integrity. Loki has specifications he likes his cars to meet, and he's one of the few who actually likes to drive them instead of having some dusty car museum at one of his mansions somewhere.

Half an hour flies by more quickly that you'd expected and it's time for him to go. You walk him to the parking lot side-by-side to avoid him getting another look at your ass this time, though.

Instead of getting in, Loki tucks his hands into his pockets and gives you that cool gaze of his for a moment before he surprises you yet again. "Have dinner with me."

You cross your arms. "Why?"

"Because I like you."

Your eyebrows shoot up. You hadn't expected that level of honesty from him. "Do you always torment women that you like?"

"No," he says. "And I think maybe that's the point."

He doesn't elaborate, and you hate him for leaving you hanging. "It's against company policy to date clients."

Loki arches an eyebrow. "I'm quite sure your father would make an exception."

"What makes you think you're worth an exception?"

Loki leans back against his Masarati and stares you down for a moment or two. "I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to answer it truthfully."

You eye him, but nod. He hooks one finger in the belt loop of your coveralls and draws you closer to him, until you're almost standing between his legs. Your pulse skyrockets. Oh, no. He's very, very handsome up close, and even out here in the open air, you can smell his cologne and it makes you want to melt into a puddle on the concrete.

"If I kissed you right now," he whispers, glancing down at your lips. "Would you slap me?"

You swallow hard. "Absolutely."

Loki smiles. "Just as I suspected. Have dinner with me."

"Why? So you can kiss me?"

He nods. "And other things."

Gulp. You hate how very, very interested you are in what constitutes as "other things." You haven't had this kind of attention before, and you haven't been on a date in a painfully long time. The rational part of your brain insists this is a terrible idea and you agree with it, and yet your stupid mouth doesn't seem to get with the program. "I don't trust you, Loki."

"Then don't. Trust your instincts. What are they telling you?"

 _Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, you stupid, arrogant, impossible bastard._ You flush at your thoughts. "They can't be trusted either."

Loki chuckles softly. "Fine. Tell you what. I'll flip for it."

He draws a quarter out of his pocket. "We leave it up to fate. You call it. Fair enough?"

You purse your lips. Fifty-fifty chance. "Fine. Heads, we don't go out. Tails, we do."

Loki flips the coin. You glance up into the air, expecting it to fall, but it doesn't. He reaches behind your ear and plucks the coin out. Despite yourself, you can't help but laugh at the corny magic trick. He flips it for real this time and covers the coin with his other hand. He smiles at you. You send a challenging smile right back at him, pretending to wait patiently even though your stomach is full of drunken butterflies smashing into each other.

He uncovers his hand. Tails. Damn.

Loki pushes off from the car and grins. "Tonight. Eight o'clock. Call my secretary with your address."

He stoops and kisses your cheek. "Until then, darling."

Before he leaves, he tucks the coin into the front pocket of your coveralls and then drives off. Once he's gone, you pull the quarter out. It's a trick coin. Both sides are tails. You shake your head and go back inside, your cheek still warm from where his lips had touched it.

-

What the hell does one wear to go on a date with a millionaire?

You have no clue.

You tear your closet apart until you come down to two seemingly classic options: one, a burgundy lace dress with long sleeves or the essential Little Black Dress. Odds are he's taking you somewhere swanky and you need to look nice. It's a toss up. Both look good on you, but the lace can get itchy and the material is a bit restrictive. However, some men assume that the Little Black Dress meant they were going to get laid at the end of the date, and you're not sure Loki has the common sense God gave corn.

In the end, you go with what you know: the Little Black Dress. If he gets it into his head that he'll be having you for dessert, there's a can of pepper spray with his name on it. However, you're being a bit harsh. You don't suspect Loki would be quite that forward. He may be a jackass, but he doesn't strike you as a creep or you wouldn't have allowed the date to begin with.

You've just slipped on your pumps when the doorbell rings. You take a deep breath, fluff your hair a tad, and head for the door.

Loki stands on your front mat holding a much smaller, much more subdued bouquet. This time, it's an assortment of all the flowers he'd sent to you the first week you worked on his car. Thoughtful. "Darling."

He lets his gaze rove over you. It feels like cool water sliding over your bare skin and makes you shiver a bit. "You look ravishing."

"Ravishing," you muse. "God, you Brits."

He chuckles and hands you the flowers. "Yes, the accent works wonders. Americans just don't sound as distinguished saying such things."

"Guess not." You purse your lips. "Did you bring these just so I would have to invite you inside while I find a vase for them?"

He adopts a facetious look of innocence. " _Moi?_ Would I ever do a thing like that?"

You sigh. "I'm beginning to regret this already."

You head back into the apartment and he trails after you, but he keeps a polite distance. You scrounge about the kitchen until you find a nice looking glass pitcher since all the other bouquets have occupied the vases you have. You snip the stems and drop them into the pitcher, deciding to place it on your mantle.

"I didn't know they made apartments this small," Loki teases, and you kick him lightly in the shin as you head towards the door.

"Hardy-har, rich boy," you say as you lock the front door and drop your keys in your purse. "Not everyone was born with a silver spoon up their ass."

Loki laughs and offers you his arm. Against your better judgment, you take it and he leads you towards the elevator. You've only seen him without a suit jacket once, so touching his arm reveals that there is indeed wiry muscle underneath the fine cloth. Interesting.

He hits the button for the ground floor and the elevator doors close. "May I ask a question?"

"No," you say, smiling.

"Why did you agree to this date? You certainly had no problem turning me down at first."

You meet his gaze and let a heavy silence hang there for a bit just to needle him. "Well, it is Friday night and I didn't feel like cooking."

"Oh, is that all it takes to win you over?" he asks. "A hot meal and a night out on the town?"

"Of course," you deadpan. "It's just that simple to get me out of this ridiculous dress."

"Funny. The same thing works for me."

You snort, hiding a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

The doors open and you head towards the parking lot. You're not exactly in the nicest or safest neighborhood, but it's not a bad part of Brooklyn, so his Rolls Royce isn't sitting up on bricks by the time you walk over to it. He opens the car door for you and you slide inside to settle on the cream leather seats. He fires it up and pulls out into the city traffic.

He actually doesn't venture too far into town this time. You end up at a Brazilian steakhouse, which is fantastic since you've never tried one before. There's a stage at the center of the restaurant with live music and a dance floor. It takes the edge off of forcing you to come up with conversation, as the two of you eat and simply watch the people dancing and enjoy the performers. You wouldn't have expected this to be where he'd bring you, and yet you're thrilled with it.

What surprises you more is once he stands and offers you his hand. "Shall we?"

You almost choke on your sirloin. "L-Loki, I can't dance."

"I can. It's simple enough, I promise."

You blush madly. "I doubt that."

"Why, darling, is that an admission that you can't keep up with me?"

You seethe. You know he's just baiting you and yet your competitive nature all but launches you out of that seat to take his hand. Loki grins and leads you onto the dance floor. He pulls you into him and simply says, "Watch me."

Thankfully, the song isn't as fast paced as some of the other ones had been. He moves gracefully, as if he's taken a class or two, and while you're internally screaming that you shouldn't be doing this, it's actually not as hard as it looks to simply mirror him. He leads well, guiding the two of you like it's effortless, and you're shocked at how you're able to sink into the same rhythm. It's electric every time he touches your waist, your hips, your arms, your hands. You know this is all part of a grand scheme to seduce you, and yet you're having so much fun that you just go along with it anyhow. It's been ages since you've smiled this much, laughed this much, been challenged this much. Hell, you might not get to do it again anytime soon, so you soak it in while it lasts.

The car ride home is pleasant and filled with an easy, friendly air between you two. It's weird, but you've long since given up trying to predict this man by now. He seems entirely composed of left curves.

He pulls into the visitor parking garage, and you finally realize just how long you two had been out dancing. It's nearly eleven o'clock and the apartment complex is silent, either because everyone's out on a Friday night or tucked in bed with a loved one.

"Well," Loki says, shooting you a smug smirk. "I trust you didn't find me as much of an infuriating, pompous git as before."

"You're still that," you say. "But it wasn't the worst time I've ever had."

He rolls his eyes. "I suppose that's the best I'll ever get out of you, isn't it?"

"Probably."

He shifts in his seat and that one movement completely changes the air inside the car. It's a smooth, almost feline gesture. All he's done is angle himself toward you, and yet your heart races and your mouth gets dry and you feel adrenaline streaking through you like you just took a tequila shot. His lids lower over those wintry eyes and he offers you another challenging smirk.

"I do believe this is the part where I find out if you're going to slap me for kissing you."

You feign disinterest by shrugging one bare shoulder. "I believe it is."

Loki leans towards you slowly, taking his damn time, lifting his fingers to your chin to hold you still. It would be hilarious to slap him right now, but you can't help wondering just what he tastes like, so you don't. Instead, you let your eyes drift close and wait.

He kisses you. His lips are soft. He tastes of lime and mint. His fingers spread out over your chin and then down over your throat until those long digits wrap around it, stroking your skin gently. His tongue darts out and parts your lips. The kiss deepens. A floodgate of pleasure bursts open as he sucks your lower lip into his mouth and drags his teeth over it oh-so-gently. Faintly, you hear your brain frantically shouting to bail now before you do something stupid and reckless, but it's far too late. Oh, the taste of him. It's divine. You want more. Much, much more.

Loki guides his hand to the back of your neck and kisses your harder, dragging moan after moan out of your throat. He starts breathing faster and so do you. You hear a noise that sounds like a click and a zipping sound and then you're airborne for just a second or two. You're suddenly in his lap and the driver's seat is lowering until the top of your head is no longer brushing the roof of the car and your hands are underneath his suit jacket clawing at his chest through the light green shirt he has on underneath it. His hips are narrow, and they move underneath your spread thighs in devastating circles. Loki's hands push your dress up over your knees, your thighs, and you moan hard into his mouth as he cups your ass with those big hands. You can't think straight, not with him touching you this way. It's intoxicating. Everything comes to you in flashes; his lips on yours, your nails digging into his shoulders, the slight chafing sound of your bodies rocking against the leather seat, the low groans of pleasure that escapes him each time your hips come down over the bulge in his slacks.

Then he angles one hand into your panties and slips two fingers inside you.

The world explodes around you.

You bite his lip hard and moan as the pleasure swarms up from between your thighs and burns through your veins like sweet acid. You shouldn't be doing this, but you are, and it feels so damn good. It's been so goddamn long since you've felt a man's touch. You push down against his hand and he exhales hotly against your lips, adjusting slightly below you as he withdraws those long fingers and then slides them in again, harder this time. His other hand settles over your ass and he pushes you down onto his fingers again and again, swallowing your choked gasps one at a time like it's fine wine. You're distantly aware that he's whispering something to you in between kisses in that deep voice, something that makes you even more frantic with need, something about how gorgeous you look while he's fucking you with his fingers, how he wants you to keep going until you come for him. You can't help it. You can't stop yourself, not now, not when you're so goddamn close to one of the best orgasms you've ever felt.

Loki's other hand slides your dress up a little more and then his thumb finds your clit. He strokes it up and down at first, drawing more moans out of you as your inner walls tighten around his fingers, and then circles the sensitive bud until you're seeing stars. His other arm wraps around you and crushes you against the hard muscles of his body, and your head clears just enough to hear him clearly this time.

"Come," he whispers. "Come for me, darling."

His thumb presses hard to your clit and you can't resist it any longer. You convulse above him and moan helplessly as your climax bursts inside you. Loki's lean form shudders below you and he murmurs your name in pure, male satisfaction. Your eyes have been squeezed shut the whole time, but you can feel that he's watching you come on his fingers and enjoying every single second of it.

Abruptly, you collapse against him, your sweaty forehead pressed to his, panting hard and fast as you float down from nirvana. His arm relaxes around you and he rubs the length of your spine as you recover, his fingers still deep within your hot core. It takes a bit before you resume any mental faculties, and you realize what the hell you've just gone and done, and how reckless it is. Not once in your entire life have you ever gone to second base with a man on a first date. And yet here you are, straddling a millionaire in his car, coming down from what honestly was a world-shatteringly amazing orgasm.

Shame and guilt immediately flood your brain. What came over you? Were you really so touch-starved, so desperate for physical intimacy? You'd never reacted to a man this way. You've never been a carnal creature. You're suddenly scared and unsure of anything as your eyes open.

And yet...

Loki stares up at you, completely calm, almost serene. You'd have expected him to be smug, but all you see in his gaze is careful concern and...affection, of all things. You're not sure what to do with that.

"I should go," you mumble as you sit back and tug your dress down over your thighs.

Loki slips his hand free of your panties and, as you watch, brings it up to his mouth. He sucks his middle finger clean first, then the pointer finger, not blinking as he stares at you. You blush intensely hard and resist a shiver as he asks, "Are you certain about that?"

You nod numbly. Loki licks his lips and slides the driver's seat up enough for you to maneuver yourself out of his lap. You scoop your purse from the passenger's side floor and climb out of the car on shaky legs, feeling Loki's hot gaze on you every bit of the way. You shut the door and bite your slightly swollen lower lip, unsure of what to do or say, your voice hoarse and confused to your own ears.

"I, um, I..."

Loki nods, his voice withdrawn but gentle, as if he wants to say something but is restraining himself for your benefit. "As did I. Good night, darling. Sleep well."

You stumble away from the car, your head pounding with panicked thoughts, and make your way up to your apartment. You take a boiling hot shower and collapse into your bed, wondering what the hell is wrong with you, and fall into a troubled sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to decide just exactly what there is between you and Loki.

He doesn't call.

You're not sure if it's a good or a bad thing.

On the one hand, you need space. Lots of space. So much space you want to move to Alaska and just become a bush person or something. On the other hand, Loki seemed entirely sure of what had transpired between the two of you and you almost want to ask him if he'd ever experienced that kind of mad animal heat before. It's probably normal for someone like him to do that sort of thing, you tell yourself. He's rich and gorgeous and besotted by beautiful women on a daily basis. What the two of you did in his car is probably nothing new to him. You might as well be another notch on his belt. Maybe that is what this whole odd interaction had been about. Maybe he was tired of supermodels and beauty queens. Maybe he wanted to try dating below his class for once, and you were dumb enough to think he actually liked you.

That is, until he shows up at the auto shop the next Friday.

After he catches up with your father, he nods to one side and you follow him out to the parking lot. Your feet feel like lead weights and you can't get your heart rate under control the whole damn time, and you hate how you feel like a nervous girl after her first time having sex with a boy.

"How are you?" he asks with uncharacteristic gentleness in his tone.

You shrug. "I'm alright."

Loki sighs. "For the record, I didn't call because I knew you needed space. Time. It didn't occur to me that you'd never done something quite like that before until I saw your reaction. If I pushed you too far, I am truly sorry."

"I'm a consenting adult," you mutter. "I consented. You didn't push me. Simple as that."

He exhales. "Then where do we stand?"

"I thought you'd be the expert on that."

He eyes you. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Oh, come off it, Loki. You're gorgeous. You must be well versed on Morning After scenarios by now."

He scowls. "You're making quite the assumption, darling."

You frown. "Loki, I met you getting a blowjob in your goddamn office. It's not like you're a priest or anything."

"Far from it, but I don't much care for your tone. If you think this entire situation was simply me trying to get you into bed with me, I'm afraid you've been mistaken."

You step closer, invading his personal space, your temper flaring. "Then why don't you elaborate on just what exactly this is to begin with? Did you get bored with celebrities and socialites and want to go slumming for a few weeks? Am I something to be crossed off your bucket list? A day in the life of a lowly commoner?"

"I assure you if that were the case, you'd be the last person I'd go to for that sort of thing," he sneers.

"Fuck you, Loki."

A cruel smile slips over his lips. "Oh, darling, if you'd only ask it of me."

Your hand lashes out aiming for his cheek, but he catches it before it makes contact. You try to wrench it free, but he holds you still in his grasp. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm not trying to use you for sex or to live out some ridiculous fantasy. If you don't want to see me, that's your right, but I came down here to tell you the truth."

"And what the hell is that?"

His gaze doesn't waver. "I wasn't lying when I said I liked you. Yes, we met in the most intensely fucked up manner possible, but oddly enough, that's what first interested me in you. You didn't try to blackmail me. Hell, it never even occurred to you to do so until I said something. You are a rare woman. I want to know more about you, if you'll have me."

He pauses for a moment. "And I think deep down, you want to know more about me too."

Loki lets go of your wrist. "I leave it up to you to decide."

He walks around to the driver's side of his Mercedes. "I'll be at the Monte Cristo restaurant off of Seminole Street tomorrow at noon. If you're interested, join me for lunch. If not, I'll consider that your answer."

He climbs into his car and drives away. You watch as he disappears down the street, somehow just as confused as before he'd come to see you.

-

He is reading the paper when you arrive to lunch the next day.

"You're late," Loki says without looking up.

"Be happy I came at all," you say tartly as you take the seat across from him. "I almost didn't."

He tips the edge of the paper down enough to glance you over. You keep your expression impassive as you pluck the menu up from the table and flip it open. It's Italian cuisine. Everything is moderately priced and has fresh ingredients locally grown, so you're a bit excited to try it.

You pretend to ignore Loki for a while as you peruse your choices. He hides a smile behind the paper and teases you by running the edge of his shoe up your calf towards the hem of your dress. It tickles. You fight the urge to giggle and the two of you very nearly play Footsie beneath the table by the time the waitress arrives.

Then, quite suddenly, your hackles rise.

You glance around, trying to figure out what set your mental alarm bells off and that's when you see her: a short brown-haired girl a couple tables over giving you the mother of all death-glares. You frown at her, confused, but she looks back down at her phone a moment later. You turn back to the table, but get the distinct impression she's still staring at you as if you're the worst scum imaginable. Loki doesn't notice, though, so you decide to let it slide for now.

The two of you chit-chat about the status of the Aston Martin as you eat and Loki answers a few questions you have about his company as well as his day-to-day. Your veal parmesan is so good you almost ask for a second order of it, as is Loki's fettuccine alfredo. When it's time to go, Loki offers you his hand. You debate with yourself--not a big fan of PDA--before deciding to indulge him for once. He slips his fingers between yours and you walk out together onto the sidewalk and down the block towards where he'd parked.

You're at the crosswalk when someone taps you on the shoulder.

You turn. The girl from the restaurant curls her lip at you and dumps an entire large-sized cup of red slushie down the front of your dress.

"Bitch," she snarls, and then stomps off across the street without another word. You stand there in total shock as the freezing, sticky liquid soaks into your dress and drips down your arms and legs.

"You little--!" Loki tries to go after her, but the light had just turned and the cars have already begun driving across the road in both directions. He grits his teeth as she disappears into the crowd a moment later and then turns to you. "Darling, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"No," you mutter, shivering as the wind sweeps over you, but that's not the only reason. You're a bit scared, even though she didn't actually touch you. This is New York. You knew people could get nasty, but you'd never seen it up close before. There was so much hatred in her eyes.

"Come on," he says softly, unbuttoning his suit jacket and draping it around you to hide most of the stains. "I'll buy you something to--"

"Home," you choke out. "I just...want to go home and change, okay?"

Loki frowns, but nods. Once the light changes again, he leads you back to the car. You apologize about dripping on his suit and on the seats, but he insists he doesn't care. He holds your hand as he drives, never once letting go, as if he can see just how shaken you are. You want to be stronger, tougher, but you've never been great at hiding your emotions.

He follows you up to your apartment and you don't rebuff him. He waits patiently by the bathroom door as you peel off the dress and ruined lingerie beneath them before politely knocking to enter. You pull your robe on and start filling the sink with cold water and some detergent.

"Can it be salvaged?" he asks.

You shrug. He sighs. "Darling, I can't say how sorry I am. I'll gladly pay for the dry cleaning--"

"I don't care about the dress, Loki. It's just a dress. Has that happened before with women you've gone out with?"

He doesn't answer right away, so you lift your gaze to stare intently at him. Slowly, he nods. "Once or twice. I tend to attract some undesirables. Usually I file a police report once it's happened and then a restraining order. The one from today was obviously smart enough to know better than to let me get a good look at her. She also knew better than to hurt you, since it would give me grounds for an assault charge. That being said, I would like you to come with me to file a harassment report."

You shut the water off and lean over the sink, shaking your head. "Maybe I was just kidding myself."

"What?"

"Thinking I belonged in your life," you mutter. "We both know I don't. I'm the odd sock. Maybe we shouldn't take this any further."

"That is very unlike you."

"What is?"

"Stepping down from a challenge. In fact, that's one of the traits I like most about you. You don't bend to opposition. You work through it. You rise to the occasion. You don't let someone else decide who you get to be and what you are capable of doing."

He turned your face towards his. "I admire that about you."

It's too hard to meet his gaze. "Loki, I don't know that I'm strong enough for this."

"You don't have to," he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "Because I know that you are. That night in the car wasn't just about sex. It was you taking control of something inside you that's been aching to get out. You have power. A great deal of it, from what I've seen. Others can see it too. I'm sure it's what attracted that wretch of a girl to you in the first place. She saw the effect that you have on me."

You nibble your lower lip for a second. "And...what effect is that?"

You know the answer, but you want him to say it, to do it, because you need it. You've probably never needed validation so badly before in your life. Part of you is ashamed of that, and yet you can accept it because you're hurting.

Loki reads the look in your eyes and cups your cheek. He kisses you. Gently. There's a question in that kiss. _Is this alright?_

You grip his shirt with shaking fingers and lean into the kiss. _Yes, it's alright._

Loki deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding and circling, his lips guiding yours. He lowers the hand that was on your cheek to the belt in your robe and tugs it free. You shiver and jump a little on impulse, and he just smiles at you.

"You need to clean up," he explains simply. He brushes past you to the tub and turns the water on, dumping a bit of your Bath and Body Works shower gel in it to get the room smelling sweet. He returns to you and lifts an eyebrow. "If I may?"

You swallow and nod. Your fingers tremble a bit and you hate it. Your breath is shallow and you hate it.

But you _need_ this.

Loki reaches up and folds the robe down your shoulders, taking his time. He exhales softly as the robe parts and exposes your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, but he doesn't rush to take it all the way off. His fingertips graze the back of your arms, tickling you slightly, as he rolls it down your arms. The soft wool pools around your ankles and you can't help biting your lip nervously as his hot gaze roves across your naked skin.

"You are," he murmurs. "Exquisite, my dear."

He captures your mouth again and then guides your hands up to the collar of his dress shirt. You understand a moment later and undo the tie, the first button, the second. You take your time and remind yourself not to rush, even though the aching need within you is screaming at you to tear his clothes off immediately and fuck him into another dimension. The shirt, undershirt, and tie join the robe on the tile.

Loki's chest is a sight to behold. You honestly have nothing against men with slender builds, and his is exactly the kind that gets your mouth watering. Lean muscles with definition, though not overly done, long limbs, pale skin. Your trail your fingers over his shoulders first, down over his pectorals, your palms sweeping firmness and strength. He arches into the touch slightly and strokes your spine up and down, stopping just short of your backside.

You undo the belt to his slacks and unzip them, resisting the overwhelming urge to take a peek in favor of sliding one hand into his pants. He groans and bites your lower lip hungrily as your fingertips brush his already hard cock, straining towards you impatiently. You settle your palm against the heat pouring off him through the cotton boxer-briefs and he kicks the pants off. Apparently, you've been making out a good while; he guides you backwards towards the tub that is most of the way full now, and you almost blush when you think about how long you've been touching each other for that to have happened.

He flicks a little predatory smirk your way as he catches your wrist to tug it away from his cock and finally removes the boxer briefs. _Oh, heavens above. Yes, please._ Your brain completely shuts down and throws all your future decisions to your libido.

Loki chuckles softly at your expression and kisses your brow. "Soon, darling. In you go."

He nudges you towards the tub. You bind your hair up and climb in first, grateful that you have an enormous, deep garden tub that comfortably seats two, and he follows you. He rests his back against the edge of the tub and stretches out with a relieved sigh, tucking you safely into his lap. The water stirs and settles around you both, and you can already feel the remaining patches of the slush starting to fade away.

Once you're both comfortable, he lifts your loofa and starts lathering it up with a bar of soap, humming something under his breath. Pleasing vibrations tickle up your naked spine from his chest and throat. He picks up your right arm and starts washing it. Your eyes flutter shut. You just lie there under the hot water and enjoy the simple sensation; one you've never been fortunate enough to experience. It's honestly heavenly. As riled up as you'd been moment ago, it's soothing to have someone bathe you, even a devilishly handsome troublemaker.

After he's washed every bit of you he can reach, he sets the loofa aside and his hands sink below the water's surface. The dense bubbles hide where they're headed, but it doesn't take you long to figure it out. Your legs are mostly together after he'd leaned forward enough to bathe them, and his hands close over your knees to pull them apart. He trails his hands down your thighs and then his fingers begin to stroke your opening. His other hand slides up your torso to your breast and he cups it, squeezing gently, flicking your nipple. You squirm as feather-light tendrils of pleasure unfold inside you and begin creeping up your body.

"How long?" Loki murmurs in your ear.

"Mm?" you mumble back, half-drunk from his touch.

"How long since you've last been sated by a man?"

You arch an eyebrow. "That's one way to put it."

He pinches your nipple in retaliation. You decide to cooperate. "Eight months."

Loki exhales again. "Oh my. No wonder."

"No wonder what?"

"You're tense. You feel as if you're about to fight me or run away at any moment, even though you are enjoying it."

He lowers his mouth to your ear and bites the lobe before kissing your neck. "You've no need to resist me, darling. I will take care of you. This I promise."

He slips his middle finger inside you. You gasp and grip the edges of the tub with both hands as a sharp bolt of pleasure flickers through you in tiny shocks. Loki tugs you back against him and trails kisses down your neck, hushing you. "Easy. Relax."

Loki adds a second finger and increases the pace, his other hand massaging and rolling your breast in time with his movements. Faintly, you wonder how much patience he must possess to do this in spite of how hard he is beneath your backside. His breathing deepens with excitement as you moan on every other breath and cling to the tub in a vain attempt to hold on through the sensuous assault.

"Don't hold back," he urges. "If you need to come, then come."

"Mm, not yet," you choke out. "Feels so...good..."

Loki's thumb finds your clit and he strokes it feverishly, sending you into convulsions as the pleasure winds tighter and tighter into a knot inside you. At long last, your control snaps. You cry out and collapse in a heap in his arms, shaking all over as the orgasm thunders through your veins. The water sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the tub and whatever peaceful mood there had been in the bathroom all but dissipates.

Loki grabs you and flips you around roughly, settling you across his lap. He grips the back of your neck and yanks you down to his lips, forcing your mouth open so he can taste you. His other hand squeezes one half of your ass and balances you over the tip of his cock. He rubs against your slit over and over and eats the moans of anticipation that pour out of your throat. He waits until you moan his name desperately and then delves that long, hard cock into you in one smooth stroke.

The noise you make at entry is somewhere between a groan, a grunt, and a scream. It's muffled, too, against Loki's open mouth. You take him, all of him, at once, but it's a tight fit. It's been a long time for you and he's not small in any sense of the word. He stretches you and you shudder as his cock twitches eagerly once he's buried deep at your core. Loki purrs and licks your lower lip, dragging his fingers up and down your wet, naked spine in anticipation.

"Darling," he whispers, those scorching eyes fixed on your face under dark lashes. "I've been dying to fuck you. Not make love. Not have sex. Fuck you absolutely out of your bloody mind until you can't think straight. I want you to release every last bit of that pent up need inside you. This pleasure is yours. Take it. Sate that hunger inside you."

He lifts you. The slow drag of his cock exiting your slippery, tight walls is startling and sharp. He shoves you back down, the steamy water sloshing at the sudden movement. You mewl and dig your fingernails into his shoulders as the pleasure sizzles through your veins from head to toe. He rocks into you, pressing deep, as if trying to find your most sensitive spot, and then slips his fingers into your bound up hair. He pulls you down to his mouth and all but attacks your lips, muffled groans of desire in every breath, biting and sucking at your lips as he circles his hips enough to graze your clit. You don't resist. It's been too long and all you want is to let go, and you can feel that it's all he wants too.

He thrusts faster, cupping your lower right cheek to guide you into every stroke, your bodies slipping and sliding against each other as you both start to lose control. Deep shivers crawl up your spine and threaten to consume every inch of your wet skin. Your inner walls squeeze, flickering around his cock, and you know without a doubt you have only seconds left before you lose it.

"L-Loki," you stammer, your eyelids fluttering as you try to open them. "Wait..."

"No," he growls. "I think we've both waited long enough, darling."

He slaps your backside, hard, jutting his hips up into you. His cock slips deeper and hits your hidden spot. You shriek helplessly. He grips your hair and pulls your head to one side, closing his teeth over your throat as he shoves your lower body down onto his lap so roughly that the climax surges through you on the next stroke. You convulse above him as the orgasm snatches your breath from your lungs. Loki hisses as he feels your body clench over his cock again and again. He grinds between your legs in tiny circles, his moans low and needy, those long fingers stroking your ass. Your arms are too weak to hold you up any longer and you collapse against his chest, shuddering as you ride the wave of ecstasy off into oblivion.

The disturbed water eventually calms around you and the sensation of suds dripping off your arms and back slowly wake you, along with Loki's fingertips dragging down your spine, petting you like a cat. Once you catch your breath, you lift up enough to kiss him. It's a long, messy, grateful kiss.

"That," he whispers, those blue-green eyes glinting with heat and satisfaction. "Was magnificent."

You blush. "But you didn't--"

He shakes his head. "We'll see to that soon enough."

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Loki gives you a slick, utterly nefarious grin. "Why, darling, you didn't think me a minute man, did you? I fully intend to have you in every depraved manner I can conjure up. After all, you said you've been without for eight months. We must make up for lost time."

The blush deepens. "Now be a good girl and wrap your legs around me."

Your thighs are still shaking, but you manage to lift them to either side of his waist. Loki snakes his arms around your back and stands in a surprisingly fluid motion. He's much stronger than he looks; after all, you're not exactly tiny and svelte, but he doesn't seem to have much trouble carrying you as he steps out of the tub. At first, you assume he's heading for the bedroom, but instead he pins you to the adjacent wall near the door with that sharp grin fully intact. Just as your lips part to ask what on earth he's doing, he pushes you down onto his eagerly twitching cock yet again.

You cry out, your spine arching against the wall, at the pleasurable pinch of his sudden entry. You're still sensitive, still tight, and he stretches you even more this time with the added gravity. Loki shudders at your reaction, that predator grin stretching his cheeks until dimples show.

"Yes," he sighs wistfully, brushing his lips over your pulse. "Scream for me, darling."

You lick your lips and scramble for some semblance of control, although your entire overheated body is liquid and obedient under his devious care. "L-Loki, we shouldn't. I'm heavy. I might--"

He rocks into you hard, trapping you against the wall, and the pleasure that bursts at the base of your spine turns the remaining words in the sentence into a foul curse. He licks the water beading along your throat up to the spot behind your jaw. It's answer enough for you; he's definitely not going to put you down until he's done with you. You're his captive. The thought excites you more than a little.

"The only thing you need to worry about, my dear, is just how long you can last before you come for me again," he whispers, nibbling your ear lobe. "And I can assure you, it won't be long."

He braces his hands to the wall on either side of your shoulders and flexes his hips, his lower back, those long, slim legs, his cock slamming into you until his pelvis digs into your lower belly. He's so deep you want to sob in protest, but it feels utterly amazing. Your heart tries to bounce out of your chest, it's beating so hard. The pleasure drowns you in waves as he sinks into a quick, nasty rhythm, groaning low and hungry in your ear as he fucks you against the wall. Your nails scratch over his shoulder blades, the small of his back, and you can't feel your toes from how hard they've curled under his delicious torture. His hand plunges into your hair again and he pulls your head back, his tongue plunging inside your mouth, his lips biting and sucking yours.

Something about you kissing him while he does this seems to set him off even more. He growls into your mouth and shoves away from the wall, dropping you onto the sink counter instead. He grabs your thighs and yanks them higher up his sides, holding them apart as he ruts into you as hard and rough as he can. You all but howl his name as his brutish thrusts pummel your clit into submission and your body tightens all over as a second climax roars up through you. You scream his name as the head of his cock strikes your erogenous zone and you fly off into the orgasm again. Loki swallows your scream, licking over your lower lip, panting harshly as he pounds himself into you over and over, every stroke sweeter than the last. The sweltering heat swimming through you makes you lightheaded and it's everything you can do to cling to him so you won't slump back onto the sink like deadweight.

He drops his hand between your legs, skimming the outline of your entrance, drawing a little moan from you. "Mm, you're so wet for me, darling. Soaked to the bone, aren't you?"

He kisses you. "How shall I take you next, pet? Tell me."

"I don't think my legs are going to work any time soon," you admit sheepishly. "Maybe we should take this to the bedroom."

"Right you are." He scoops you up again, this time bridal style, and you open the door for him. He carries you into the bedroom and lays you down on the bedspread. The cool air makes you shiver a bit, but you quickly warm up as he catches your ankles and lifts them onto his shoulders. He starts low, kissing an inch higher one at a time, taking small bites along the way. You bite your lip when he hits the sensitive skin on the inside of your knee and then keeps climbing up your body. You're almost hyperventilating with anticipation by the time he reaches your right thigh, and you damn near convulse when he nips and licks the tender flesh.

"Ever since that night in my car, I've been dreaming about doing this to you," Loki purrs, glancing up at you through a veil of wet, tangled hair as his hot mouth hovers just above your pelvis. "I've wanted to taste you since the first time I saw you in that garage, all mussed and disheveled. I've had fantasies about shoving you up against one of my cars and fucking you like a complete savage."

He drags his teeth along your hip, teasing you, pushing your thighs wider to allow him room. "But until then, I think this is long overdue. You smell absolutely enticing, darling."

You stifle a gasp as he licks over your clit, dipping just the tip of his tongue down over your entrance. "And sweet, so sweet, my love. Especially after being fucked and fucked well."

Your fingers twist into fists as he finally slides his tongue inside you, pushing it deep, his fingers squeezing your thighs. He sucks gently at first, sliding the talented appendage up and over your clit again, circling it, and then licks his lips with a feral groan of satisfaction. You're blushing madly at the amount of wetness spilling from you; a result of the two intense orgasms you've already had and of the anticipation of what Loki is about to do to you. You've never pressed your previous boyfriends to do this, mostly out of pure shyness. They were happy to tease you a bit, but none of them ever decided to go down on you.

Loki goes down on you like it's a goddamn career choice.

Your eyes cross and then close completely as he licks, sucks, nibbles, tugs, and laps at you as if you're the heartiest, most savory meal he's ever had in his life. He builds you towards your climax steadily, never rushing, always insistent but stopping just short of making you come. Your entire body breaks into sweat, mingling with the remaining bath water, until you feel practically soaked inside and out. He's going to kill you like this and you're not even remorseful because it's a hell of a way to go.

You're panting out his name in a mantra, damn near in a prayer, unsure of when your fingers had gotten tangled in his wet mane, but you squeeze and knead and beg him to end his teasing.

Loki sighs and tilts his head, biting kiss marks into your inner thighs. "I love the way you beg, darling. Shall I end your suffering?"

You nod frantically. He grins wickedly. "Out loud, my sweet."

"Please, Loki. Please."

He licks his lips as darkness slides into those jewel-like eyes. "Please what?"

"Please let me come," you whimper. "Please."

"Such a good, obedient little pet," he hums, lowering his mouth to you again. "Come for me."

His tongue swirls seemingly impossible patterns on your outermost edges and then glides inward, and he closes his lips over your sex, sucking sharply. Your long legs flex and curl as you try your hardest not to close them in on either side of his head as the orgasm snaps free from within you. Loki kindly assists you from doing so by holding your thighs apart as he slips his tongue inside you, in and out, effectively fucking you with his mouth. You come hard, writhing on the bed, your nails scraping his scalp helplessly as you spin off into the ether again.

You're absolutely certain you've been out like a light for several minutes when the bed shifts and you stir from your sex coma. Loki hovers above you, his mouth clean and stretched wide in a grin at your expense. "I will never get tired of seeing that expression on your lovely face, my dear."

"Shut up," you mumble, fully embarrassed by now. You've certainly never passed out in bed before. The fact that he could ever do that to you is beyond insane. No wonder the man has so many fangirls; if they had even an inkling a man this handsome and wealthy was also a sex god, they'd lose what little minds they had left.

"I could," he teases as he helps you straighten out your legs on the bed. "But we both know you enjoy my taunts, don't you?"

"I do not," you grumble stubbornly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he settles his heavy, lean form over you.

"Careful, my naughty little pet," he murmurs. "I might be inspired to spank that pretty bottom of yours for lying."

A sly smirk touches his lips. "Speaking of which..."

He slips out of your embrace and rolls you onto your belly, tucking a couple of pillows beneath your waist since your legs are still a bit numb. You squirm nervously as his big hands sweep up over the curves of your ass. He swats you lightly, his voice deep in warning. "Ah, ah. Be still."

You moan as he lowers his mouth to the small of your back, kissing the dimples above your backside, trailing kisses down until he reaches the firm, round flesh. He bites the highest point on either cheek and you shove your face into the mattress to mask a moan of delight as the pleasure and pain mix into a cocktail of pure adrenaline inside you. Your inner thighs are almost drenched by now and your pussy clenches with need as he traces the shape with those careful hands. A moment later, the heat of his cock slides between your ass cheeks and you wiggle a little out of pure frustration.

"So eager," he says in that heavy, husky tone. "Have no fear, pet. I will sate you this night."

He trails the leaking tip of his cock over your lower back and then delves inside you. You bite your lip nearly hard enough to break the skin as pure ecstasy burns through your nerves once again. Loki presses you into the bed, holding his weight on one hand, the other caressing and massaging your lower left cheek as he exhales lustfully.

He doesn't hesitate. His hips make a swift, almost scooping motion with every thrust, and the thick head of him nudges something delicate inside you every time he withdraws. You cling to the bedspread and try to muffle your mewling as he rides your body like it's his own personal fucktoy. The vibrations from his guttural moans flow down his upper torso and into you over and over again, enhancing every single delicious thrust into your burning hot core. Your brain is all but fevered by now. You catch yourself wishing he'd never stop fucking you. It's so rich, so intoxicating, so perfect. God, he's perfect inside you.

"Loki," you pant out, no longer caring how desperate you sound. "Don't stop. Please. I'm so fucking close."

Loki purrs again and his hands find your wrists on the bed, pinning you in place. "I wouldn't dream of it, darling."

He pistons into you at a breakneck pace. The sound of your wet skin slapping together makes you frantic. He's so deep. You can feel the orgasm clawing to get out of you, but this time, there's something else that you need.

"Come," you beg him. "Please, Loki."

Loki squeezes your wrists. His breath gets faster with excitement. "You want me to come, darling?"

"Please. I want to feel it."

He growls and yanks your arms behind your back, clasping them with one hand. He slips his free hand beneath the pillows until his fingertips discover your clit. He fucks you harder, as quickly as his body will allow, his cock pounding you into the mattress until you're tight enough to snap. You scream his name and tumble over the edge one final time, but this time, he follows you. Loki rolls his hips against your ass, gasping out your name in that baritone voice, and your toes curl with the pleasure of knowing you've pleased him as much as he's pleased you. Heat and liquid flash through your lower body in a dizzying rush. Your eyes nearly roll back from the sweetness of his climax. You have no idea what's gotten into you, but somehow, the messy sensation of his come leaking out of you is exactly what you need, and you drop off to an exhausted sleep; warm, protected, but most of all, wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Afternoon After sleeping with Loki is rather eventful.

You wake up in Loki's arms.

It's been ages since you've slept this deeply. Your rigorous activities prior to the nap must have tuckered you out even more than you thought.

Your eyes slowly flutter open to catch a glimpse of Loki's profile. Your cheek rests on his chest and you're curled against his side underneath the sheets. He has one of your books in his other hand-- _The Iliad_ , you note--and he's humming softly as he reads, his other arm around you, stroking the small of your back.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he purrs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Mm," you confirm sleepily. "What time is it?"

"A little after four o'clock," he says.

"How come you didn't wake me up?"

"You looked like you could use some rest after your ordeal." Something mischievous sparkles in his eyes for a moment. "And after our...strenuous exercise."

You blush, despite knowing how silly it is to do so. He chuckles softly. "Are you hungry?"

You lift an eyebrow. "That's a loaded question."

He grins. "Hungry for food, my dear."

"I could definitely go for some takeout right about now."

"Chinese?"

"Definitely."

Loki sits the book on the nightstand and grabs his cell phone. You tell him the name of your favorite place and listen to the resonant vibrations along your upper body as he makes an order for the two of you. You trace the shape of his abs while he talks, for no reason other than the skin contact might as well be like heroin and you've been dying for a fix. It's so nice to just touch someone again. To feel needed and wanted. To belong. To spend time with someone in an intimate capacity. Truth be told, you have food in your fridge, but you want takeout simply because it means getting to lie in bed longer with this infuriating man by your side and you don't want to give it up just yet.

"Forty minutes," Loki says after he hangs up. "I'd knock it off with that--" He gestures to your wandering hand. "--if you want me to be available to pay for our food once it arrives."

"Hey," you protest. "You can't give me orders in my own bed, mister."

"Mm," he says, lifting your hand enough to suck your index finger inside his mouth. "I wonder what I'd have to do to make this our bed."

You blush. "I-I guess that's something to think about, isn't it?"

He shifts a little and the playful seductiveness flees his expression. He keeps a steady gaze with you as if sensing the mood had changed. "Is that something you want, darling?"

"I don't really...know? This sort of thing has never happened to me before, and never so quickly."

"What sort of thing?"

"Liking a guy. Going out with him. Getting to all four bases inside of a month. I only barely have much experience with relationships. I don't know much about boundaries and grey areas."

"It's not as complicated as it seems," he says. "To start off, you and I like each other despite the constant insults and sniping. From there, you build a foundation and see where it leads."

You fight the urge to fidget. "S-So you, um, you think you want to do this? Start seeing me?"

"I don't _think_ anything," he says, and his tone couldn't be firmer. "I want to see you."

"Exclusively?"

He lifts an eyebrow. "Woman, you are daft if you think I would even consider someone else while you're driving me this crazy."

"Sorry," you mumble. "It's just with you being handsome and famous, I wasn't sure if that was par for the course."

"Women are complicated. I don't make a habit out of seeing a lot of them at once."

You chew on your lower lip for a moment before taking a small leap of faith. "So what happened with your ex? Did it fall apart just because she decided to move?"

Loki eyes you, knowing what you're up to, but he still answers anyway. "I mentioned to you before that I don't usually torment women the way I torment you. That's because I've spent most of my years pursuing women who have no potential to make me stay with them. Most were simply beautiful and shallow since it allowed for easy access to sex and intimacy without the pains of an actual relationship. Society is often forgetful that some women are equally interested in physical pleasure with no strings attached, and so I kept inside those parameters since it required no effort. My ex was the first in a long time who stuck around long enough to start a relationship. It fell apart for natural reasons. She found someone else and wanted to break it off with me before beginning that relationship. I'm glad she had the decency to tell me, at least. I despise infidelity."

"I don't have a lot of experience," you admit. "But at least I can sympathize. My last boyfriend thought I was a cold fish and ditched me for someone else."

"Men are idiots," Loki says. "They don't look past the surface for what's really there, most of the time. It's why things unraveled the way they did the first time we were together physically, that night in the car. I sensed something in you and explored it. I suspect the fools you've dated before couldn't see past the sarcasm and bravado you project."

You wince. "Probably not. Sorry. It's a reflex. It's how I stay safe."

He brushes your hair behind your ear. "Listen to me carefully, darling. Never apologize for who you are. To anyone. And especially not to me. You are who you are. You shouldn't want to be anyone else. Ever."

You swallow hard and nod, your heart rabbiting inside your chest. This is the most honest, intimate conversation you've ever had before, especially in bed. You realize he's seen you naked, finally, devoid of any of the walls you've built to hide behind. It's both terrifying and exhilarating.

This relationship in a nutshell.

"Okay," you say with as much steadiness as possible. "I want to give us a shot. We stay honest and open with each other. I'll try to stay out of the limelight as much as possible."

"Believe me, I'll be working on keeping you out of the limelight as much as I'm able," he replies, a slight growl in his tone. "If anything like earlier happens again, heads will roll."

With the kind of man Loki is, you're pretty sure he means that literally, so you just cuddle up to his side and rest until the doorbell rings. Loki throws on his suit pants and grabs the food, returning with utensils and water bottles. Despite knowing better, you curl up next to him and eat in bed. Maybe he's just as interested in the skin contact as you; he doesn't even suggest moving into the living room.

Once you're both fed, Loki sighs and checks his watch again. "I have a meeting at six. I should get going."

"Shower's yours to use if you need it."

He grins. "I'd cause quite a stir going into the office in my Walk of Shame outfit, darling. No worries. I'll go home, shower, and change. Besides, it's too tempting not to ask you to join me in the shower."

You roll your eyes. "One track mind."

"You're hardly any better." He drops a slow, sweet kiss to your lips. "May I spend the night after my meeting or do you need some time to yourself?"

It's so startling that he asks instead of assuming. He really does care about your needs and boundaries. On the one hand, it might be a good thing to reassess your life without him around. On the other hand, _sex_. Sex with Loki. Sweaty, wonderful, uninhibited sex.

 _You need some Me-time,_ your brain says sensibly. _Plus, it'll give you time to clean up the place and--_

"You can stay the night," you blurt out, on orders from your idiot hormones. Your brain just sighs in resignation and gives up.

Loki tries not to smile and fails miserably. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Shall I bring dinner with me?"

"No, I'll cook."

He lifts an eyebrow. "You can cook?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I can cook."

"Very well, then. It's a dinner date." He climbs out of bed, gets dressed, drops one more lovely kiss on your lips, and heads out the door. You slump on the mattress, still a bit dazed at the current state of your life, and then amble towards the bathroom to wash off your shame.

* * *

Even though your brain is exasperated with you, you still do clean up your place until it's suitable for actual company--outside of your bedroom, of course. Nothing is actually dirty, merely cluttered, since you tended to work long hours and would collapse in bed rather than do actual housework most weekends. Since your dad is your boss, you make your own schedule for the most part. Rather than having two days off consistently, you tend to work various hours until you're caught up on all your orders and then take days off when things are slow. It's better than the nine-to-five slavery shifts that most people do and you're grateful to your father for trusting your work ethic.

You decide to keep dinner simple. You run across the street to the farmer's market, grab two ribeyes and some fresh spinach as well as baked potatoes, and scurry home to cook. Loki texts you once his meeting is over at seven and you throw the steaks on the grill after seasoning them. You saute the spinach and the potatoes had gone in the oven right when you returned from the market. You've showered and redressed into simple clothing: just a large t-shirt and boy shorts. Loki has already seen your naughty bits, so there is no real reason to get fancy.

You hear two knocks at the door just after you've made up the plates. Heart in your throat, you sidle on over to the door and open it.

"Darling," Loki says with a smirk. This time, he's in a navy suit, no tie, white dress shirt, black dress shoes. There is a plastic bag in one fist and a suit cover with a smaller bag looped over it in the other. He looks extremely happy to see you and it makes your stomach flutter a bit. You must be going soft.

"Loki," you say in return, hiding a smile. He steps inside and you shut the door. He follows you towards the kitchen where the hot food is already resting on the island counter at the center. You hear the crinkle of the suit bag as he tossed it on the love seat. "I made steak, potatoes, and spinach, if that's okay with--"

As you turn to face him, Loki swoops in and kisses you. Your mind simply goes blank. It's not a sweet, chaste kiss, either. It's an I-missed-you-now-please-remove-every-item-of-clothing-you're-currently-wearing kiss. Any thought aside from Loki dissipates into mist as he slides his hands over your waist and pulls you into him. Your arms loop around his neck to keep you from collapsing to the floor in a heap from weak knees.

Loki does you one better and picks you up, setting you atop your kitchen table. It's a heavy oakwood table that you'd inherited from an aunt. An earthquake couldn't knock it over, which is a good thing, because Loki seems very insistent as he jerks away your boy shorts. His hands shove your legs open and he shimmies the oversized t-shirt over your thighs. His fingers close around your throat and he flattens you on the tabletop before lowering his mouth to your sex.

"L-Loki," you stammer. "The f-food's gonna get cold."

It doesn't deter him. He delivers two slow licks to either side of your opening, spreading heat through your lower abdomen in a rush of tingling nerves. He groans slightly, his breathing elevated, shrugging out of his suit jacket. "It will survive the next several minutes, I assure you."

He props your legs on his shoulders and sinks his tongue into your welcoming heat, as if it belongs there. "Aah! Loki!"

A flood of wetness greets his mouth and he accepts it all-too-willingly, sweeping up towards your clit to spread it around. Your hands fly to his thick hair and you squeeze down, your throat too tight to get any actual words out. His fingertips drag delicate patterns across your throat, tickling the sensitive skin, as he sinks the talented muscle deeper into you until your toes curl and you moan his name in a high-pitched squeal of helplessness. He relents somewhat and sucks at your inner walls in careful surges, rocking into your lower body slightly until it feels like the way he'd fuck you with his cock. Pleasure pulses steadily with the strokes of his mouth on your cunt. Your eyes are clamped shut, your lips parted to exhale his name in rapture every few seconds, your nails scraping his scalp at every succulent pass. Loki slides his hand higher and traces the shape of your lips with his first finger, sliding it down over your tongue to silence your mewls of his name into muffled moans. You suck at his finger, drawing low groans from him in return.

Too soon, your inner muscles clench in warning. You tug at Loki's hair and try to summon words out of your airless lungs. "Please...I'm gonna..."

He slides his mouth higher to your clit and circles the tiny nerve until you're seeing stars and rutting up against him like an animal in heat. Choked gasps and curses slither from your throat one after the other. Finally, your head flies back and you cry out in wordless joy as you come. Your body contracts in Loki's arms, muscles straining as the pleasure engulfs you and drags you under.

As you float down from the height of nirvana, Loki withdraws from between your thighs, licking his lips clean along the way. You're glad the table is there; he's pretty much sucked the strength out of your body and you can't move a muscle. You hear the telltale jingle of his belt buckle and pry your eyelids open just in time to see him prop your legs on his shoulders. You blush intensely at the hungry, eager grin he flashes you before his hands tug you towards the edge of the table, effectively bending you in half.

"The entire time I was at that meeting," Loki whispers, his wintry eyes gleaming with lust. "All I could think about was you on this table. You make me crave you, darling."

You manage a nervous, hoarse giggle. "One track mind."

"Perhaps," he admits. "But I'm not the only one, am I?"

Loki brushes the hem of your shirt up over your belly and then delves inside you.

Sweet merciful God.

Your spine arches up off the table. " _Fuck_ , Loki."

With your legs suspended on his shoulders and your lower body bent, his long, hard cock juts into your soaking heat at _precisely_ the right angle. It's as satisfying as adding the last piece in a puzzle or popping open a stubborn jar at long last. Every nerve in your entire body explodes and fizzles like fireworks. You clutch his forearms where they rest on either side of you, biting your lower lip to stifle another outburst, trying to keep as still as possible to keep from teetering over the edge into oblivion.

"Don't move," you gasp out. "Please, God, don't move, Loki."

The evil bastard chuckles, sending vibrations down your legs. "Or what?"

"Don't move, don't you fucking move, Loki," you murmur feverishly, shaking with the effort not to come on the first stroke. It's far too embarrassing and he'd never let you live it down. "I swear to God, I'll kill you if you move."

Loki laughs this time. "I can't stay in this position forever, darling."

You shake your head frantically. "Mm-mm. Don't you dare. Loki, don't you _dare_ \--"

Loki rolls his hips, once. The climax surges inside you like a tidal wave. Your slick inner walls clench down hard on his cock and tear your breath from your lungs in another scream that echoes through your tiny apartment. There's no doubt by now that the neighbors know you've got a boyfriend. Dammit.

Again, you collapse to the table in a twitching heap of loose muscles, gasping for air, covered in a light sweat from head to toe. There's a sopping mess between your thighs now, coating Loki's cock, probably starting to puddle on the table below you. You've never been this wet in your entire life.

You lie there, eyes closed, attempting to breathe, and then soberly tell him, "You're dead meat, Laufeyson."

He chuckles. "You're ridiculous."

You glare up at him. "Bastard."

"I'm a bastard, am I?" he taunts. "I guess that means I shouldn't keep going then, hmm?"

You blush. He lifts an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk firmly in place, waiting for you to answer. You grumble under your breath. "Fine. One more orgasm and then I kill you."

"Oh, dear," he muses. "Better make my last one a good one, then."

Loki wiggles his hips just to drive another whimper out of you and then slides out with an obscenely wet noise that makes you blush even harder. He has the nerve to stroke his gorgeous cock a couple times before returning to you and lifting his hand to his mouth, slowly licking your wetness from his fingers and watching you while he does it. As much as you hate him right now, it more than does the trick of turning you on even more. He thrusts into you again, sending another wave of pleasure up through your body, and then he settles into rhythm. He leans that lanky frame forward over you, tilting your hips, his own pounding against your ass with every strong, sure stroke, hitting your spot over and over again. You squirm underneath him, held in place by his arms on either side of the table, every breath slipping from your throat in a whine. The slap of his thighs hitting yours just makes you even more crazed. The pleasure just keeps brimming up through you, hot and wild, already threatening to spill over again.

"Are you still going to kill me, darling?" Loki purrs.

"Y-Yes," you pant out.

"What if I make you come really, _really_ hard? Will you spare me then, my sweet?"

You lick your lips. "I hate you."

"Mm, you hate me, do you?" he growls, his voice dipping octaves lower with arousal. "Is that right?"

"Yes."

Loki grips your wrists and slams them above your head. The movement stretches your body into a long arch on the table. Your nipples are so tight beneath the bra that they ache. Your blood feels hot enough to boil in your veins. Loki towers over you, pinning you completely, his cock buried so deep you're surprised you can't taste it. You can't move. You can only lie there and endure, and the thought makes you melt inside. You don't know how you've done it, but you can tell you've unlocked another part of his personality with your saucy little mouth.

"Say it again," he murmurs. "I dare you."

You force your eyes to open enough to give him your best insolent glare. "I hate you."

Loki growls again, but his lips curl up at the corners. He stares down at you like a starving wolf with a young doe in its jaws, seconds away from devouring it to slake its hunger. "Clearly you must. Is that why you're so wet, darling? Why you've been screaming out my name like you're praising the gods? Why you're shaking with anticipation for me to release you again?"

You have no idea why, but this aggressive dirty talk is driving you mad with need. You snap your knees down over his shoulders, locking him into position, something fearless rising up from inside you. "I'm waiting."

Loki shudders above you at your utterance, his breathing shallow and erratic, his voice hoarse. "Oh, you naughty little minx."

He shifts his huge frame and then simply cuts loose, releasing the clutch on his control. He fucks you hard, rough, and deep from that position. You barely last a minute. His cock drags and slides and pounds into your melting core and you unravel all at once with a howl of his name. Loki gasps as he feels you climax and squeezes your wrists, his head hanging low enough that his soft hair brushes your cheeks. His cock spills rope after rope of searing heat inside you and you moan harder as you feel it. You've never come this hard, not even earlier today. You're almost certain you've ascended to another plane of existence thanks to this annoying bastard.

You stir sometime later when Loki uncurls himself from around you. Your legs start to drop off his shoulders, but he kindly catches them--fast reflexes, as noted before--and he instead lowers them gently for you. He bends down and kisses you, cupping your face in one hand. You sigh against his soft lips once he pulls away again.

"Maybe the steak is still salvageable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to know how to make your Hiddles thirst EVEN FUCKING WORSE? Watch The Night Manager. My God. It's basically six episodes of Tom Hiddleston methodically destroying my ability to be attracted to any man other than him. I dare you watch that miniseries and not fall in love with him. What a fool I was to do so. Now I'll never be cured of the thirst for him. 
> 
> Why am I telling you this? Because I want you all to suffer with me! Ahahahahahaha! Also, yes, I know I am two years late, but it just popped up on Amazon Prime and I'd never heard of it before. Feel free to commiserate with me in the comments if you so desire about how fucking handsome and sexy he is in that show. 
> 
> Next chapter is probably the last one. Don't want to belabor the point, after all. Be patient with me, darlings.

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, I've fallen on some rough times and it would be an enormous help if you enjoyed this fic to drop a few bucks into my Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/birdofhermes. Every little bit helps, trust me, and I'd be eternally grateful. Thanks, guys.


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